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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28730988">Rite of Conscription</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hezjena2023/pseuds/Hezjena2023'>Hezjena2023</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dragon Age: Origins</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon Typical Violence, Character Study, Gen, Loghain makes the choice to join the Wardens, Oneshot, Prompt - Loghanuary, Silver!Verse, Tabris Origins Reference, Warden!Loghain, it’s not much of a choice but still, prompt</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 12:22:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,510</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28730988</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hezjena2023/pseuds/Hezjena2023</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“The crime is treason, Loghain, the only fit punishment is death.” The Warden said. She was an elven woman wearing the tattered remains of a formal dress standing annoyingly close on the other side of the iron bars. “You’ve got a choice old man,” she told him with a quiet steady voice, that didn’t suit her willow-thin frame. “Die tomorrow, or die slowly? I can’t offer you better than that.”</p><p>***</p><p>What if Loghain had to do a version of the Tainted Blood quest, to get the darkspawn blood for his Joining?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Loghanuary</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Rite of Conscription</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“The crime is treason, Loghain, the only fit punishment is death.” The Warden told him. She was an elven woman wearing the tattered remains of a formal dress standing annoyingly close on the other side of the iron bars. Even in the warm glow of the flickering torchlight, her face was pale as moonlight. Marred with two black tattoos, ‘v’ shaped, like arrowheads on her cheeks pointing towards the ground. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t answer her, for what was there to answer for? The Landsmeet had turned against him, which was surprising, but he had prepared for this outcome. He was happy to die with the knowledge that Anora would remain on the throne. And he would do it all again if necessary, that was reward enough for the unsavoury work of the last year. He grit his teeth and did not respond.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve got a choice old man,” Warden Tabris told him with a quiet steady voice, that didn’t suit her willow-thin frame. “Die tomorrow, or die slowly? I can’t offer you better than that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked to Loghain more like a spectre that had come to haunt him in the cold dark dungeon, like a hungry ghost feasting upon his pain and regret. He crumpled up his nose and then dropped his gaze to the thin splatting of hay strewn over shiny obsidian tiles, they were cold to the touch and didn’t warm with body heat. He’d been cold since they’d deposited him in the cellar, the ungrateful sodding lot of them. Equally coldly, he told her, “if you are trying to provoke me, I will not be baited.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Warden Tabris threw her head back and properly laughed, it echoed back to her in the small dark space and the Palace Guard standing with a thick hoop of keys shifted in his spot uncomfortable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” she told him, composing herself again with deadly efficiency, “I’m not trying to bait you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then what do you want?” He snarled at her, losing hold of the fraying threads of his temper for a single moment. Couldn't she just leave him in peace, to spend his last few hours in quiet contemplation?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Warden Tabris crossed her arms over her chest, her lips quirked up mockingly and her grey eyes narrowed on him. “I want you to come with me, I want you to see who the real enemy is.” She pulled her gaze from him and with disgust she looked over the grime of his holding cell, “it shouldn’t take more than an hour. Then have no fear, you can come right back to this cesspit if you please.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t trust her, “and how do I know you’re not just looking to slit my throat?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I wanted you dead, I wouldn’t be here, offering you a choice.” Warden Tabris returned curtly. She reached her hand back and the Guard handed her the keys to his cell. She waited, with the key hovering over the barred door to his cell, “well old man, are you coming or not?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>South of the City steep cliffs dropped down to the scraggy plains below, intermittent trees crept towards the city, like hands reaching out from the northernmost edge of the Brecilian Forest. It relentlessly crept closer to the City and Loghain believed that if Denerim fell, it would be lost within years under the thick canopy of evergreen trees. As thought the City had never existed at all. But until that day, there was a stretch of a handful of miles that was kept cleared and the fresh wood used to fuel fires in the poorest slums of the Capital. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After reluctantly agreeing to Warden Tabris’ cryptic instruction, he found himself in that no-man’s land between civilisation and the forest. He could hear a bubbling brook somewhere to the south of him, which was accompanied with the ambient sound of the wind whistling over the empty terrain and the intermittent long hoot of an owl somewhere far above him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They hadn’t even gotten far enough that they’d lost sight of the City Wall yet, as Tabris seemed to be struggling to make progress. She crinkled up her nose and panted a little, for what good it had done she’d been holding up the mud-splattered hem of her skirt, but her shoes were impractical for the terrain and she was wearing two heavy blades strapped to her hip that made her unbalanced on the uneven ground. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Loghain was starting to get annoyed. Whatever mild amusement he had at being outside again, was lost in irritation that this was how he was spending his final hours. And she had been stoney silent about exactly where they were going, but they didn’t seem to be making any progress quickly. Spikily, he demanded, “why are you wearing that?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Warden Tabris glared at him as though he’d insulted her mother, which dissolved into a strange look that made him feel unseemly in her presence. “It’s my wedding dress.” She pulled out part of the skirt that she was holding as though to show it off. He thought she might spin on the spot, but she restrained herself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It didn’t to Loghain’s eyes look like a wedding dress. Besides being splattered in mud and unidentifiable stains, it was cream, made of cheap cotton with large glass beads sewn into the front. Celia would have called it tacky and he wouldn’t have disagreed. “I didn’t know you were married.” He said and immediately regretted it, there were whispers from her allies and enemies alike calling the ‘Widow of Denerim.’ </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew that, he’d laughed about her moniker the month before over wine and cheese in his Quarters up there in the Palace. That probably weren’t his Quarters anymore. Racking his brains, he couldn’t remember why they called her that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tabris shook her head, “I’m not married,” with her fingers she revealed a small brown stain that was surrounded by a yellowing halo as though she’d tried unsuccessfully to bleach the blemish away, she announced, “that’s my husband to be’s blood, right there.” She turned on the spot, reaching for another spot in the cream skirts. “And here’s his killer’s.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Loghain grimaced and turned away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does it make you uncomfortable?” Warden Tabris asked circling around him like a vulture around carrion, her question asked with an annoyingly smug smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It did, but he wasn’t about to tell her that, so instead he remarked, “it isn’t very practical.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not meant to be practical, it’s meant to be a reminder.” She told him plainly as though he was an idiot, she undid one of the sword belts on her hip and offered the sheathed weapon out to him. “You’re going to need this, Anora said you were better with a two-handed sword, but this shall have to suffice.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It felt like a test, the way that she held out the long sword. He looked at it, and then at her, in her ruined dress that she couldn’t really walk in, let alone fight. He grimaced, maybe that was why she’d brought him out here, to duel. Whatever he’d done over the past year, he still had enough honour that he wouldn’t engage in that sort of foolishness. Stiffly he told her. “I’m not going to fight you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Warden Tabris waited a beat before she laughed again, like a cat-like yowling. “Good, it would be a waste of my time to have to kill you know,” she nodded and stoically, jabbed the weapon towards him again. Then shook it at him until he took it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sword was light in his hand, the pommel smooth and the hilt wrapped in leather. He drew it out a few inches, from the shabby look of the metal, it wasn’t a good sword, nor had it been wellkept. The surface was tarnished and covered in scratches, the sword had seen better days. But then again, so had he. He knew how to handle it and maybe that was all that mattered. He braced, waiting for her to strike him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you’re thinking of killing me and escaping, you’ll only buy yourself a few more hours tops.” Warden Tabris scoffed as him and his stance, misinterpreting it. “If you get back to the City you’ll be executed, if you linger too long here you’ll wish you hadn’t killed me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t like Warden Tabris, “is that your most compelling argument for why I shouldn’t kill you?” He spat before demanding, “what are we doing out here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sized him, the same annoying, smirk lingering across her features, she flicked a finger towards a small thicket of skinny-trunked birches. “We’re going over there.” She told him curtly, stepping away and wobbling as she stepped up onto an uneven stone. She looked back and gave him a morose look, “currently as the most junior Warden, this fascinating job falls to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Loghain wondered how she’d gotten so far, this incompetant Warden. If it was skill or just sheer dumb luck that had brought her from Ostagar. “What?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a rye smile she said, “cryptic warnings are a time honoured part of our Order.” But she didn’t wait for a response, striding towards the copse of skinny, silver-barked birch trees, all folded in on themselves in defence from the prevailing wind. “There are four,” Warden Tabris told him as she approached drawing her weapon, eyes on the edge of the bush in front of her. “Be ready.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The lights from the City were bright enough that it wasn’t truly dark, and one of the moons hung lazily and half full above the canopy. But it wasn’t exactly bright either, still there was no mistaking the form of the creature that lunged for the Warden. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Darkspawn, with sullen cheeks and sunken eyes, snarling fangs. Breaking birch branches in an effort to get to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keep one alive!” She yelled, twisting to her side and hacking at it with her sword with untrained but effective strokes. But, he was reluctantly impressed, she held her own another darkspawn that sprung crawled on mismatched, all-fours towards them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>More than one curse dropped out of Loghain’s surprised mouth, subconsciously moving into a defensive position, the borrowed sword raised high. Loghain expected her to be lithe and quick on her feet, but she wasn’t. She stood like an oak, battering down anything that came close. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He dispatched one as she hacked her way through the next. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One more,” he breathed, because she’d said four. But he couldn’t see it, wherever it was hiding. Until it was on her, literally. The darkspawn had jumped at her back, arms around her neck - he’d expected them both to go tumbling into the ground. But she had tanked the hit and remained standing. With the hilt of his borrowed sword, he smashed the darkspawn in the face, throwing it bodily to the ground. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hurlocks,” Warden Tabris breathed heavily through her nose and dismissively brushed off her shoulder as though her only concern was that it might have left muddy prints on her dress. She stepped over the dead and approached the one that had been knocked to the ground. It was still shuddering out a breath, technically still alive, but dying. She crouched by it and grumbled, “I told you to keep one alive.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was it or you.” Loghain told her, grimly. He glanced over the three dead darkspawn, clothed in ruined rags that were only a inch nicer than what Tabris was wearing. Then thought it was probably about time he stopped underestimating her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tabris grinned at him, rubbing off a splatter of gore from her cheek, “interesting choice you made. Help me tie it up, will you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Between them, they dragged the knocked out darkspawn against the base of one of the thickest birch stumps and looped rope around its waist, the Warden tying knot after knot until she was certain that it couldn’t break free. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t expect them to be this close.” Loghain offered softly, a little like a peace treaty, but not quite. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Warden knelt, fixed him with a hard look. “The only reason I’m at the Capital is because the hoard is at the Capital. Sit down, Loghain.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He remained standing for a heartbeat, grimaced and dropped to a knee. “And now what, Tabris?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kallie,” she corrected without looking at him, her attention was firmly on the hurlock. She nudged it with her boot and asked, “what do you see?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It groggily opened its eyes, but couldn’t focus on either of them, twisting against the restraining and snarling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was a joke, Loghain realised, a spiteful fucking joke. “It’s a darkspawn.” He told her, moving to get up. She was mocking him for not taking the threat seriously and here they were, right on his doorstep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She swiped at him with her hand, to keep him exactly where he was. She prompted, “look closer, is that all you see?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Loghain saw an infuriating woman that had somehow managed to survive against all the odds. Disgruntled, he demanded, “what do you see?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re like us, that’s what I’ve learnt, and we’re like them.” Her face softened just a little, “Wardens more than most. We can sense the darkspawn, because we are a little bit darkspawn. Look at it, it wants to be free of these restraints, because it wants to live.” She glared at him, “that’s something you can empathise with right? Risking everything for a chance you might see tomorrow.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to die tomorrow,” Loghain corrected, not sure why she was telling him any of this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“At the start of this evening, I offered you a choice, between dying quickly and dying slowly.” Kallie Tabris told him softly. “The same choice that was offered to me, I can’t promise anything and I won’t. I’m only giving you the choice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Loghain blinked at her, it was too much to hope for, so he didn’t. He didn’t think about having breakfast with his daughter again in the parlor with fresh bread and thick honey.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he didn’t say anything, she passed him a vial barely bigger than her palm, with a cork in the top. “Fill it up with its blood. I told you we’re a little bit them.” Tabris whispered, almost reverently. “You’ll drink it and become infected with Blight, and die slowly. Takes thirty years, maybe you can make amends or get your revenge, I don’t care.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His stomach turned over at the thought of willingly ingesting the blood, it went against every single instinct that he had. Then he realised exactly what she was saying, he gasped out his question, “you want me, a Warden?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Every day, I look monsters in the face that don’t want to die. Your death doesn’t benefit me, Loghain. But your life, it’s a risk that might just pay off.” She placed the vial down between them, stood up and smoothed her bloodied skirt down. “I’m a gambler, are you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Loghain had a choice, it was that simple. And the choice was simple - he snatched up the vial. </span>
</p>
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